Truth
by J-Beckks
Summary: Post-ep for Q&A. He can't stay home tonight. He should but she's everywhere in his mind. She was right, the truth set us free and he didn't say it all.
1. Chapter 1

**Is there anyone left standing and breathing after last night's ep?... Yeah, I thought so.**

**For those of you that are still here, I wrote this pretty quickly, in the spur of the inspiration after the ep. I didn't release the frustration just yet. There were so many things I wanted them to say to each other. Don't get me wrong though, the interrogation scene was perfect. I was a mess sobbing on the floor but it was wonderful.**

**Thanks to those of you who take the time to read and review my stories. It means a lot.  
**

**Disclaimer: Still nothing.**

* * *

He can't stay home tonight.

He should but she's everywhere in his mind.

Her hand in his. It was a comforting gesture.

But so much more.

Anyone who would have seen them would have agreed.

It was the symbol of their connection. Of something he couldn't find with anyone else but her.

The symbol of their love.

She told him.

She told everything. Her bare feelings. And he didn't say anything back.

It's eating him alive.

Because he loves her too.

He didn't know it before. He fooled himself into thinking it was just a play. A fling. A moment where he had been everything he could have ever wanted, maybe more, finally be free.

A moment wasn't meant to last.

But he wanted that now too. He wanted it forever.

He had a wife. He had children.

And his freedom was elsewhere.

He realized it when she exposed herself to him.

He knows she wanted to get him to talk but he saw it in her eyes.

She was telling the truth.

It hurt her.

Because he didn't say it back.

_He_ hurt her.

Let her believe there wasn't a chance for them.

When all he can think about is her.

All the things he wants to say to her.

All these things he can't say to anyone else.

* * *

He can't sleep.

He leaves Jessica in the cold dark of their room.

His hand is killing him but it won't be enough to stop him.

He needs to get there. He needs to see her.

She needs to know.

* * *

He wants her hand in his again.

_He just wants to hold her hand_.

* * *

The knock on her door startles her.

She's still in the middle of her living room, her glass of wine in one hand, the empty bottle on the table.

She isn't sure just how drunk she are.

But she's fairly certain that she is in no state to meet with anyone.

She considers staying silent. Making them believe she's asleep.

_What time is it anyway_?

The knocking has stopped.

She thinks she can finally go back to her pathetic state.

Alone.

When she hears his voice.

"Carrie, it's me. Open up."

She freezes. Doesn't know what to do.

"I know you're here. Come on."

Her feet drag her to the door.

She opens it and here he is, looking better than earlier. Fresher. Still haunted.

He seems determined... and sweet?

"Sorry I didn't call. But I missed you."

She doesn't know what to say. She probably had way much more alcohol than she thought.

He can't be here_. He doesn't want to_.

She finally gets her voice back. Tries not to be shaky.

"We saw each other a couple of hours ago." She smiles nervously.

"I didn't tell you the whole truth."

"No?"

"Can I come in?"

She's stressed out. She's in no condition to speak about Abu Nazir, about torture nor terrorists.

But he's here. And he wants to talk.

So she steps aside so he can come in.

"Ask me again."

"What?"

"What you asked me earlier in the interrogation room."

"I asked you plenty of questions."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I..."

"What, you're too coward to ask me in private? Was it all just an act too?"

Her mouth opens but no noise gets out.

_Oh_.

He wants to talk about _that_.

Feelings.

_Their_ feelings.

She isn't sure she is able to talk about that either.

"So?"

She barely dares to watch him in the eye.

It had felt good earlier. To tell him everything.

Here she feels cornered. Like there's no issue.

"Do you... um, do you have feelings for me?"

Her voice is insecure.

There's a beat.

She's on the verge of panicking.

"Yes."

_What_?

She looks up to find him looking right at her, right through her.

Expecting. Like that day in the cabin.

_So, are we going to try this sober?_

"Yes, I do have feelings for you."

She searches his eyes and all she sees is sincerity and love.

"I couldn't tell you back there. But I can now."

"Why?"

"I realized I can't be with anyone but you."

"Look, I know what I said in the room but you have a family. I – I don't expect you to leave them."

"I know." The dilemma is patent on his face. "But I want to be with you."

Carrie shakes her head.

"No. No. We can't be together. We only hurt each other."

"But you love me."

"Of course I do. It's not the point, we..."

She can't finish her sentence because suddenly she feels his lips pressed against hers. With so much desperation, like he couldn't wait anymore.

Her eyes are watery, a tear running freely on her cheek, _but it feels so good_.

The way he holds her.

* * *

Her hands are lost in his neck and on his hair.

She doesn't control them, all she can think of is kissing him back.

* * *

He breaks the kiss slowly, moves back a little but doesn't let her go.

"You were right. It feels good to say the truth."

They smile.

Happy. For now.

As she goes for another kiss, he goes for her hand.

_He can finally hold her hand again_.

* * *

_So, what do you think? I'm afraid it's a little more fluffy than intented but, oh well, they deserve a little peace too!  
_

_I might write another chapter. M-rated, if you know what I mean. It's up to you!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Here you go, as promised, a little something to ease the sexual tension! **

**I tend to forgot that Homeland is a Cable show and thus there is little chance that the fans would mind a M-rated chapter!**

**Thank you everyone. Love the support.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

She drops her eyes to stare at their hands.

Their fingers laced together.

They're holding hands. Like a couple. Like teenagers in love.

Like they're normal.

It moves her to tears.

Because they're anything but normal.

They're messed up.

He almost blew himself up along with the most important men of the US. All of this for some vendetta. He almost let a family without a husband and a father.

How can he be capable of love?

She almost killed herself. Because she's crazy and everyone thinks so. Everyone doubts her. And she's tired of the looks. Because she realised she can't heal, not even with the ECTs and not if she's alone, but _she's going to be alone all her life, isn't she_.

They're both suicidal. Just like their love is.

It's a time bomb. Waiting for one of them to push the button.

And when it's over they'll explode.

* * *

It's already shining when they collide. Their bodies make the sparks fly. It's hot, steaming and burning.

She pulls on his hand, leads him to her bedroom. Because yes they could have sex right here against the wall and she knows she wants it but if they're doing this, they're doing it right and not like they are drunk, messing and playing with each other.

Their feelings are at stake.

They said it and they can't take it back.

She'll show him on the bed. She'll show him it wasn't all just an act and how he's in a deep mess because she loves him and he told her he loves her back and there's no way to get out of it without being hurt.

They stop before slowly falling down into the bed. They both seem broken, not sure their love is enough to repair each other.

She has the feeling the falling won't stop. But the mattress stops her and it's soft and welcoming.

So is his touch. Carressing her cheek. Sliding through her shirt. Taking his time. Like she's precious. And it's worse. Worse because tomorrow morning he will have a family to come home to and she will be left alone in her bed, the memory of his lingering fingers against her skin still making her shudder. And nothing, _nothing_, even not when she was right, the moment she discovered she was right and right not to have killed herself can compete with how she feels when he touches her. Because she feels loved. Probably for the first time of her life. She found someone. And he loves her.

He's slowly working on the buttons of her blouse and why is he so slow? She sees him smiling and... he's teasing her. Fuck, he's actually teasing her. Enjoys the way her body reacts to the so little contact between his palm and her flesh, the way her muscles contract when he wanders on her stomach and then he's going lower, lower... She arches her hips as he goes and he smirks. Shit. He has her. He has her under control, her body at his mercy.

Her hands are fisting into the sheets as his hands make it through every layer of her clothes and start rubbing, oh so softly and almost tormenting - and she can't reach out to him.

He likes it, being in control. She can see it.

She wants to counterattack but she loves this so why not just take it.

He slides her blouse off her shoulders, her arms and throws it off on the floor. He tries to take off his shirt with the only hand he has available but as he goes through some trouble, Carrie manages to help him and gets it off him. She sizes the opportunity to get back at him. She trails her hands on his torso. She's sweet, trailing the lines of his muscles... and he buries his face in her neck, mumbling, like he wants her to stop because if she continues, he'll end up taking her and not taking his time.

Her hands are now winding up behind his back, pulling him in, flesh to flesh, like they are just one body. As they kiss endlessy, she's holding him tight, almost crushing him.

Until her hands work at his pants and she tries to reverse their position, tries to take the upper hand and have him under her.

He doesn't want to and he's stronger than her, pinning her down, his own pelvis securing her and his legs keeping hers in place.

It turns her on. Not the failing – the fighting, the domination. If his eyes, in some dark shade of blue, are any indication, he loves it too. Not ready for it to end.

* * *

She thinks the sex is going to be powerful, almost damaging. Like when they're drunk, like when he came home after years of torture.

She's wrong. It's not.

When every piece of clothes has finally disappeared and they're both left naked, there is no dominance, no fight left. Because they're equal and they're in love. They want the same thing, there's no winning.

When he goes into her, it's gentle, long, still mindblowing. She's very aware of his presence in her, around her, everywhere. She welcomes him in a pool of heat and cries.

He moans too. It's almost like a sobbing because _finally_...

It's been so long.

All the memories come rushing back and – _why did they stop_.

As his movements come and go, as his pelvis meets her faster and faster, his hands brush away a lock of hair from her face. He wants to see her. Watch her. She's focused on her pleasure but she's happy, because she wants it and he wants it too. There's no playing, there's only true and deep feelings.

She forgets about tomorrow, about the pain. Waves of satisfaction are shaking her body and that's all she ever desired, just like is the sight of him coming undone for her, thanks to her. It can't get better than that.

It doesn't matter if there's no tomorrow. She's used to the pain and the loneliness but for now she has him and he's not leaving.

* * *

_Fin._

_I marked it as complete but I feel like this story has more to say. Watch out, we never know!_

_As usual, please tell me what you think._


End file.
